UNBREATHABLE

by Hafsah Laziaf

  Our blades connect with a grounding clang that trembles all the way to my toes. I don't look at his face to see his handsome features, though I know they are there.

  I shove him away, kicking him between the legs at the same time. He grunts and loosens his hold. I knock the sword from his hand as a small knife embeds into his chest. I don't have a chance to see who helped me.

  Another Jute swings a metal rod toward me, bits of rust flying in the relentless wind whipping around us.

  He, too, falls with a knife to his chest.

  I turn in the direction of my rescuer. Slate and Chancellor Abel limp toward the ship, shielding Eli between them. There’s another knife ready in Slate’s hand. Around them, battles rage, arrows fly, swords clash.

  I duck and run to them. Slate assesses the damage on my arm before he looks at my face. “Eli's the only one who knows how to set the ship in motion. Can you get him there?”

  Eli sways on his feet. Wrinkles line his face and I wonder if they are new, or if I simply never noticed them before. I take Slate's place, draping Eli’s arm over my shoulder, the weight suffocating me even more.

  “Where will you go?” I ask. But he's already gone.

  Eli wheezes. We move dangerously slow.

  “I'm Abel,” Abel says to me. Has he forgotten that we already met? Dena would have rolled her eyes.

  “Lissa,” I reply. Sweat trickles down my skin. There’s a patch of blood on the side of Eli’s torso.

  He leans closer to me and whispers something in a hoarse voice.

  “I know all about you,” Abel says with a wheezing laugh. Will he shut up?

  “We’ve met, Chancellor,” I say, respectfully. Eli says something again.

  “What is it?” I ask him as we near the ship. Julian slides through a group of Jute and reaches to help Eli. Blood trickles from a gash on his neck.

  “He lied,” Eli whispers, fixing his eyes on me.

  “Who lied?” I ask. I don't care if Abel lied, I don't say. A gasp of air chokes from my right. Abel's grip loosens around Eli’s arm and he collapses to the ground, an arrow in his side.

  Julian begins pulling Eli up the stairs to the ship. I don't have the mind to marvel at the ship now that I am inches away. I can’t even grasp the fact that the man I just spoke to is a corpse beside me.

  Eli pulls free from Julian and looks down at me, and for a moment, everything is still.

  “Slate lied. He can fly this thing better than I can. Gage designed it. He taught Slate how to man it.”

  I blink. Once. Twice. I ignore Julian's pleas and run.

  My father is a machine.

  His glistening red dagger never stops moving. And not a single Jute who crosses his path stands a chance. The way he fights is almost beautiful.

  Pain pierces my leg. I turn as a leering Jute man swings a small knife in his hands, readying for another strike. I throw a quick and smash the end of my dagger against his skull and he crumples to the ground. I grab his knife and meet Slate's eyes. Panic freezes his features for a moment, before he shouts.

  “Lissa!”

  The shaft of an arrow is embedded in his leg.

  I throw three knives, one after the other. They find homes in fatal places. And while only three Jute fall, the rest turn their attention away from Slate dropping to his knees in pain. I pull longer knives into either hand and twist them in my hands as they approach.

  A rush of adrenaline makes me run. I hold the knives on either side and rush past the oncoming Jute, my blades slicing cleanly through them, ending their lives.

  When I'm a foot from Slate, I turn back. Seven Jute have fallen. Three remain. From the ship, Julian calls my name, his voice frantic. I catch a flicker of bright white hair as Dena helps people on board.

  Men and women frantically surge toward the ship. The door is closing.

  A small dart sails straight for my neck. I swerve at the last moment as another Jute throws a fist at my stomach.

  Sudden. Pain. Explodes. My senses.

  I gasp for air and double over.

  “Lissa, the ship,” Slate rasps. Panic distorts my vision. Three Jute. The ship. Slate. My pain. Too much. No time.

  The Jute sense my weakness. One of them throws a kick at my right, the side I favor. I fall in the opposite direction, my knives dropping soundlessly to the ground. I turn on to my back. Air swooshes through my nose and dust chokes my throat.

  “Lissa,” Slate shouts, his voice strained. I feel his hand on my ankle. His touch gives me hope. Gives me a reason. But my limbs are laden with lead.

  The shadow of a leering Jute falls over me, blocking my view of the reddish clouds. Menace distorts his face. And I think, I think I could let him do as he wishes. I would.

  If I didn't hear my name. Thrice.

  Slate.

  Julian.

  And somewhere, Rowan, his voice faint.

  My body is fluid in that moment. In a flash, I wrap my legs around the Jute and pull him down. My hand finds the hilt of my knife and without a thought, I plunge it deep into his chest. His body convulses, blood spews from his wound.

  I don't waste time. I aim and throw. The knife skims the stomach of one of the two remaining Jute. I pick up the other knife and jump to my feet, the ground swaying beneath me. The dark-haired one lunges for me as the other launches another dart. I duck from both and slash my knife across the dark-haired one's stomach. The remaining one looks at me, eyes wide, mouth slack. He turns and runs toward the ship, dropping his darts as he goes.

  The knife slips from my hand. The ground rushes to my face and I hear, more than feel, the impact of my numb body on the ground. Slate pulls himself to me, his eyes frantic. Blood has pooled around him. Sobs rack my body.

  “Shh, Lissa, shh,” he says softly, as if I’m a child. The child he never got to raise. “You saved me.”

  “No, you saved me,” I say, my voice hoarse.

  His eyes fill with tears. I slowly push myself to my feet, my knees threatening to give way.

  The ship isn’t too far. I can limp. Crawl even. I can limp with my father.

  I can't even move.

  Slate gasps then. The sound shatters my heart. I fall to my knees.

  No.

  No.

  “No,” I whisper, running my hands across his chest. My hand snatches on something sharp in the hollow beneath his shoulder. An arrow. From behind.

  “No, no” I whisper. Not when I finally have a chance to live with him, my father. He doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this.

  He cups my cheek and a trembling smile curves across his face. I don’t know if the tears on his face are his or mine. Or both of ours.

  “Thank you, Lissa, for giving me a chance,” he says in a whisper.

  “No,” I scream. I grip his shoulders and shake. His eyes flutter. “You’re not leaving me. You’re my father.”

  My voice softens. “Live. Please.”

  He shudders.

  The last I see are Julian's eyes before I collapse in his arms.

  The last I hear is the ship's voice counting down from ten before the rushing in my ears drowns out all else.

  Lips press against my temple, soft and trembling. I open my eyes, expecting to see my father's pale gray eyes staring back.

  But they’re blue and drowning in pain.

  I leap to my feet and the ground sways. Clean bandages have been wrapped around my shoulder and leg. My cheeks are tight with dried tears. My voice is strangled and hysteric. “Slate.”

  Julian’s hand closes around mine and he pulls me back down. “Calm down, Lissa.”

  I fall to the ground and press my hands flat against the cool floor. It trembles beneath my hands. I still myself, trying to make sense of this vibration.

  That’s when I take in the room. The walls are metal, a soft silver that desperately tries to soothe my heart, like softhearted mothers, protecting in silence.

  I breathe in, slowly. The blandness of oxygen rushes into me. It’s odd. I
've breathed the air of Jutaire for so long that oxygen is ugly compared to it.

  “The ship?” I ask in a whisper. My eyes find Julian’s and he smiles. A genuine smile, so rare. But it’s sad, like his eyes.

  “Where you’ve wanted to be for so long.”

  So long. So desperately. So much that so many lives were lost. Because of me.

  “Slate,” I say again. A vise tightens around my heart.

  “He’s fine. He’s recovering,” Julian says softly.

  Fine. Alive. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in relief. He’s alive.

  “Can I see him?” I ask.

  “Not yet.” He stands and holds out his hand, leading me to a circular window. I stumble at the rumbling of the ship and he smiles again. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Through it, I see Eli's house, and beyond it, the remains of the palace. And slowly, I see all of White Plains, the land my mother once ruled. I see dead bodies, so many, countless bodies. Jutaire will be a world of red death. No one alive exists there anymore. At least, that is what I hope.

  All this destruction. So much ruin. For a ship. For a planet that was said to be destroyed long ago.

  I wonder if Rowan is alive. If he’s looking at the people he killed, or if he’s lying with them. My vision blurs.

  “Funny, isn't it?” Julian asks.

  “What?” My voice is raw. There’s nothing funny about death.

  “How much you miss something once it's gone,” he says softly. I nod, my throat suddenly choked. Tears stream down my face, there’s no use holding them back. I held them back for so long. Not anymore.

  Gage. Chancellor Kole, Abel. Wren. Even my mother. They’re all gone. And Rowan?

  “Hush, Lissa,” he whispers, wiping my face. He pulls me against the warmth of his chest. “Don’t cry.”

  “What happened to Mia?” I ask.

  “She’s in the infirmary.”

  He puts a finger on my lips before I can ask anymore, and pulls me through a short, dimly lit corridor. It opens to a larger room. The cockpit, I think. The wall ahead of me is covered in glass, stretching from left to right, about twenty feet long. I see the sky, blue and red and white. And Eli, with three soldiers. He flicks switches and orders them to do various things. He monitors the screens lining a part of the wall.

  “Dad,” Julian says. Eli turns with a start.

  When he sees me, he smiles and speaks to the shadows to his right. “She’s here.”

  A limping figure steps forward. His pale gray eyes are creased in pain and his left shoulder is bandaged from the arm to his chest. His right leg is bandaged too. Something slips from my lips, a sound between a cry and a laugh. I rush forward and wrap my arms around him.

  “Ow,” he laughs softly. I pull back and look into his gray eyes.

  “You’re alive,” I whisper. He smiles.

  “I’ve wanted you for seventeen years. I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.”

  “Don’t ever leave me, Father,” I say. His eyes brighten. Father. He isn’t Slate anymore, no. He’s my father.

  “I won’t,” he whispers, touching his nose to mine. “I won’t.”

  Through the corner of my eyes, I catch Julian smiling. And Eli. Even the soldiers watch.

  “Gage never thought this would happen,” Slate says finally.

  “He did. He’s the one who taught me to hope,” I say, pulling away.

  He nods. “He taught you, but he never hoped himself. That was his flaw—he calculated and planned too much to leave anything to hope.”

  And in the end, it cost him his life. A pang of sadness deepens in the bottom of my heart. There is so much I don't know about him—about his part in everything, from my birth to his friendship with Eli.

  But something still bothers me. “Gage knew Earth was real and he was preparing to trade me in exchange for passage to Earth. So why did he break into the Chamber?”

  “I never got to ask, but maybe he wanted to set everything in motion. Maybe he wasn’t ready to give you up,” Slate says. I feel a rush of sorrow again.

  “There's no point dwelling on the past,” Julian says softly.

  “He's right. We have a future to look forward to.” Slate says with a wan smile.

  An unknown future. It could be good, it could be bad. Is that any better than the future we once knew?

  “Let me show you around,” Julian says, slipping his hand over mine. The warmth of his touch reaches for my heart. Slate watches me thoughtfully before gesturing for me to leave.

  The ship is gigantic. There are more rooms than I can imagine. Three thousand or so humans made it, and a little more than eight thousand Jute, some of them Rowan’s men.

  There’s a greenhouse too, with crops and preserved food. A pool of shimmering water spreads beside it. There are storages stocked with clothes, more food, and other essentials.

  My mother was well-prepared. I feel sorry then, guilty even. We nearly stole something from the Jute. Their ship. Their freedom. They aren't much different from us, I’ve learned.

  Which reminds me. I need to ask Eli about what he nearly said before. About the Lost Colony.

  “There's one more room I want to show you,” Julian says, breaking through my thoughts. He opens a door beneath the shadows of the stairwell leading to the next floor, right beside the entrance to the ship.

  The smell hits me first, musty and old. I scan the large room. Shelves line the walls. Shelves stocked with books.

  “There’s so many,” I whisper. There are four chairs in the center of the room. Along one shelf is a desk and along another is a long sofa to seat three.

  “There are countless books about Earth and its history. You can learn everything before we get there.”

  I stop short, my finger lingering on a fraying spine. How did the Queen store all of this for so long? “We can learn. How long will it take to get there?”

  “I don't know,” he says warily. “They're still sorting it out.”

  “Something's wrong,” I say softly, crossing the room back to him. He touches my cheek with one blazing hot hand. I jerk away.

  That’s when I see. His pupils are constricted. His eyes are wild. A fine sheen of sweat layers his skin. His ragged breathing bursts into my ears.

  “Julian,” I whisper. My voice rises hysterically. “What's wrong?”

  A deep laugh answers my question. I freeze, because I never thought I would hear that sound again.

  Rowan strolls in through another door.

  “All you ever wanted was Earth. And look, now you're getting it. But did you think of the cost? Did you ever think of anyone but yourself?”

  What does he know of pain and costs? His words only worsen my confusion.

  “Silly girl, Julian's a half-breed. Not a hybrid like you. His lungs need the air of Jutaire more than oxygen. The only difference between him and a Jute is that he'll last longer.”

  No. It can’t be. I couldn’t have nearly bled for every human and Jute alive and left Julian to die.

  How could I forget him?

  “But Eli's a hybrid.” I am trying to grasp something, anything.

  “He's Jute,” Julian says softly. “Gage tested your blood on him years ago.”

  Words, truths, realizations—a vise tightens around my heart. No. No. No. I can't lose him.

  “There has to be a way,” I whisper.

  “There isn't.” Rowan answers. But I don't look at him. I look at Julian and see the same look that flashed in his eyes when I first told him about Earth.

  He hasn't given up. There has to be a way. I’ve only ever had Julian. Ever since the beginning, I’ve had him.

  “My blood—”

  Rowan cuts me off. “You need the catalyst.”

  “What is it?” I ask, desperation tinges my voice. I don’t care.

  Rowan. Just. Laughs.

  “There isn't much different about you and me, Lissa,” Rowan says. I meet his bloodshot eyes.

  Rowan is right.
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  I’ve only thought of myself, not the consequences. I have lost too much. My eyes blur. But we are different. I will fight for those I love and those who deserve to be fought for. Rowan only cares for himself. No, Rowan cared for Julian’s mother, for Julian and Eli.

  “Please,” I beg, searching his eyes for the part of him I saw last night.

  He scoffs. “Remember what I told you?”

  Run away, Lissa. Run away. But remember you’ll come back to me. You’ll need me. You’ll beg for me. And I’ll make sure you never leave me again. Not even Julian can help you then.

  “Give me the catalyst,” I say, gritting my teeth.

  He laughs again. Julian gasps for air and sinks to his knees. Something flickers in Rowan’s eyes.

  “Help him,” I beg. “Show me you have a heart. Rowan, please.”

  He furrows his brow when I say his name, when he hears my pleading. “And then what? You'll go back to him. If he dies, I'll have you all for myself.”

  Rowan has a sick, sick mind.

  “That's what this is all about? You knew all along that this would happen.”

  He tilts his head. “Maybe.”

  I stare at Julian’s colorless face. His eyes are glassy and his lips are slowly turning blue. Even the honey-brown floor looks more alive than he does.

  You’re the one who sides with whichever side is more beneficial for your treacherous lips.

  There isn't much different about you and me, Lissa.

  But we are different. Oh, we are.

  “Give him the dose and I'll leave him.” The moment the words leave my lips, Rowan holds his breath. Julian shudders and pushes himself up on his weak hands and stares up at me, slowly shaking his head, a silent no slipping from his trembling mouth.

  “You would do that so he can live?” Rowan asks. He sounds genuinely curious. A normal boy asking a normal question, trying to understand.

  And I realize, I do love him. The part of him that is human. “But why? What good would it do if he’s alive and you can't be with him?”

  That is what he'll never understand.

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, knowing my every breath takes Julian closer to his last.

  “I was wrong,” I say, my voice soft. And as if he knows my words are for him, Julian stops heaving and looks at me with burning eyes. “I thought, if you loved someone, that you could never let them go. But I was wrong. If you truly loved someone, you would leave them if it meant their safety and happiness. Just so they could see another sunrise. Breathe another breath. Smile another smile, even if it's without you.”